Murder for Choir (33 page)

The kids went wild, and I heard a number of gratifying “holy crap” exclamations as Devlyn smoothly set me down onto the floor. I hit off on the CD player as the kids started chattering.

“Is all the choreography like that?”

“I thought Chessie said she didn’t know how to sing show tunes.”

“What are the costumes going to look like?”

“Is the Singsations stuff going to be this hard?”

“I don’t think I can do the lift.”

“That’s going to take forever to learn.”

Devlyn put his hands up, and the room got quiet. “I think you’ll all admit Paige is ready to take Music in Motion to the next level. If you aren’t up to it, make sure you tell her now so someone else who is ready can take your spot.”

Silence.

Devlyn glanced toward me and winked. I winked back. It felt good to be on the same side again.

A couple of choir members asked to see the routine again. I looked at Devlyn. He nodded, and away we went. I could see the girls watching me closely. The boys all studied Devlyn. By the time we were done, the only ones applauding were the Singsations kids. My students were already discussing getting together for additional practices outside of rehearsals to brush up on their dance.

“Mr. DeWeese, Mr. O’Shea, and I are excited about working with all of you this year. The sheet music Mr. DeWeese ordered should be in by the end of the week. Our first music rehearsal will be next Monday. We’ll start learning some of the basic steps next rehearsal. Got it?”

They nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The excited group gathered up their stuff and headed for the exit. In the middle of the kids was Chessie trying to make a break for it.

“Miss Bock,” I said, projecting my voice over the exuberant chitchat. “I believe you had something to tell me.”

Chessie stopped walking. Eric tugged on her hand. For a moment I wondered if she’d decide to walk out the door with him. Finally, she said something to Eric, turned around, and walked back into the room. Eric shrugged and trudged out the door with the rest of the crowd.

Devlyn leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure confronting Chessie now is a good idea?”

“Trust me.”

Chessie stood next to the piano. She had developed an intense interest in her purple flip-flops as the rest of the students left.

“So what did you think of the routine?” I asked.

“It was pretty good.”

High praise.

“I’m hoping the judges think it’s better than pretty good,” Devlyn joked. “That routine needs to bring down the house.” He waited for Chessie and me to agree with him, but neither of us spoke. We just looked at each other.

The silence stretched on for several long seconds. We were playing a game of chicken. The first one to speak lost. It wasn’t going to be me.

“Okay. Fine. I wrote those notes. Only it wasn’t all my idea. Someone told me to do it.”

“Someone told you to write Ms. Marshall threatening notes?”

I was glad Devlyn spoke because I was too stunned.

“Well, sort of.” Chessie bit her lip. “Once Mr. DeWeese told us you were going to be in charge of the team I knew we had to make you quit. Otherwise we’d be throwing away everything we’d worked for. So I did some research online and found that review.”

If ever I ran into that reviewer, I was going to deck him in the mouth. “And?”

“Your bag was out in the open, so I put the printout in. I figured things were so busy no one would see me doing it.” Her chin rose. “You didn’t.”

“But somebody did.”

Slowly she nodded.

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” Chessie said. Devlyn shot her a look of disbelief, and her defiant attitude crumbled. “I really don’t know. Honest. I got an e-mail around seven o’clock on Friday
night saying what a great idea the note was and that another note left in your mailbox on Saturday morning would really put the pressure on. It worried me that someone saw me, because I was so careful, but I liked that someone else agreed with me. Eric was against me doing anything to get rid of you.”

Sighing, I asked, “Was the e-mail signed?” Another head shake. “Did you recognize the e-mail address?”

“No,” she admitted. “But lots of my friends have created new e-mail addresses recently so I assumed it was just one of them. I mean, who else could it have been?”

I lifted an eyebrow in doubt. An epidemic of e-mail address changes seemed far-fetched to me. Devlyn didn’t agree. “We see this every year with seniors applying to colleges. I’ve had to update my files a dozen times already to keep track of kids who have changed their addresses to something more professional.”

Damn. That made sense. “Did the person say why they thought Saturday morning was a good time to drop off another note?”

Chessie chewed on the end of a lock of hair. “The e-mail mentioned something else would happen around lunchtime. We’d have a one-two punch. Or one-two-three if you count my first note.”

The pride in her voice pissed me off. “Do you know what the e-mailer’s punch was?” Before she could say anything, I answered the question. “Gunshots. While I was standing at the bottom of my aunt’s driveway reading your note, someone tried to kill me. Someone you helped.”

The girl’s face drained of color, and her eyes flew to Devlyn’s face for confirmation. The minute he nodded, her lip trembled and she started to cry.

My gut instinct is normally to sooth away tears. I can’t help it. In this case, I was happy to let Chessie cry. Scaring
the crap out of me and aiding and abetting a murderer were pretty good mistakes to cry over.

After a few minutes, the flow of tears ebbed, and Chessie started snuffling. Devlyn handed her a tissue, and she wiped her face. Taking a shaky breath, she asked, “Will I go to jail?”

“No.” Although it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard. Chessie heaved a sigh of relief, but I wasn’t done yet. “However, I want that e-mail address.”

“I’ll have to look for it when I get home. My parents won’t pay for me to have a phone with Internet access.”

Devlyn pointed at the door. “You’ll go to the library computer and get it now.” His tone meant business. Chessie must have thought so, too, because she grabbed her bag and scurried toward the door, promising to return shortly. When she was gone, Devlyn ran a hand through his hair and sat hard on the piano bench. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Not entirely,” I said. The slight tremor in my voice ruined the Zen sound I was going for. “Felicia and you both agreed on one thing last night—the notes sounded like something Chessie would do.”

“Felicia was also right about someone putting Chessie up to writing one of the notes, which means the rest of her theory might be dead on. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still in the same room with me.” His tone was bitter, his eyes angry. He was waiting for me to run.

My feet stayed firmly in place. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I do now.”

Devlyn stood up. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

Uh-oh. My feet twitched. “You didn’t kill Greg Lucas.” I was sure the person who did was out of town all summer. Wasn’t I?

“I haven’t been honest with you. We both know that.”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“But not everyone gets blackmailed over them. Thank God that’s finished.”

I blinked. “Drew Roane rejoined the team?”

Devlyn smiled. “I got the call this morning. Coach Bennett’s happy.”

“‘All’s well that ends well,’ right?” I thought my Shakespeare quote would make the drama teacher in him smile.

Nope. He frowned. “Remember when we talked about teenage girls and the trouble they can cause for teachers? I saw it for the first time when I was student teaching. A senior girl thought I was cute. She was always trying to schedule private acting lessons with me. Anyway—”

The door burst open, and Chessie stomped in waving a piece of paper. “I got it.” She handed the page to me, and her eyes glistened with tears. “While I was in the library, I made a decision. If you need me to talk to the police about the notes and the e-mail, I will. I don’t care if it shows up on my school records. I was stupid and mean, and I deserve whatever happens because of it.”

I was floored. She wasn’t just saying this in hopes of getting herself off the hook. She meant it. This Chessie wasn’t the same self-absorbed, egotistical girl I’d come to know and resent. For the first time, I could see the budding adult under the teenage angst, and I was impressed.

“I’ll talk to Detective Kaiser. There might be a way for him to take your statement without notifying the school administration about your actions.”

“Really?” Her eyes filled with hope, then suspicion. “Why are you being so nice?”

I laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Maybe because I remember what it’s like to be a teenager who screwed up. Besides, I need you to help win competitions this year. I think we have a chance. Don’t you?”

Chessie smiled. The first real smile I’d seen from her since I’d taken the job. “Are the rest of the dance numbers as good as the one you showed us today?”

“They will be,” I promised.

“Then, yeah,” she said. “I think we have a really good chance. See you tomorrow?”

When I nodded, she gave a wave and walked out the door.

“Damn it,” Devlyn said, looking at his watch. “I’m supposed to be helping a couple seniors pick out their college audition monologues. They’re waiting for me in the theater. It won’t take long. Can you wait?”

I didn’t have a car. Unless I called Aunt Millie, I had no choice. “Can you give me a lift home?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned as he sprinted toward the door. “Meet you back here in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

The minute he was gone, I looked down at the paper in my hands:
[email protected]
. Huh. No wonder Chessie thought the e-mail was from one of her friends. It certainly sounded that way to me.

I packed up my stuff, put the CD player away, and got the room ready for tomorrow. While lining up the chairs, I realized Chessie had given me an additional piece of the puzzle. The murderer had to have been in the field house the last day of camp. Considering at least two hundred parents, kids, and teachers had been present, this didn’t completely narrow the list down. But it was a start.

I grabbed my purse and found a pen. Then, using the piano as a desk, I started jotting down notes. Thanks to Mike, I knew Devlyn had an airtight alibi and was in the clear. So were Dana and Coach Bennett. If either of them were in that field house, the kids and staff would have been talking about it. The only two left from my original suspect list were Larry and Eric. Eric didn’t have an alibi, but his
parents had him on lockdown after coming home. I didn’t see him picking up a gun or rigging my car with explosives. Which left Larry.

My gut said no. Which meant the killer was someone I’d never considered.

“Oh, thank God you’re still here.” Felicia poked her head into the room. Her eyes looked freaked, and she teetered slightly on her heels. “I don’t know who else to tell. I mean, I could call the police, but I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do.”

“What’s going on?” I shoved the paper back in my purse and zipped it partially shut. “Did someone else get hurt?” The fact that we were just down the hall from the first murder scene made my heart jump.

Felicia clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head. She was wearing a large pink sewing smock over her clothes. It engulfed her petite frame, making her look small and vulnerable. “I checked my e-mail while I was working in the costume shop. Most of the messages were just beginning-of-school stuff. A few students asked for letters of recommendations. I wasn’t even paying attention to the sender when I opened one and…” Her eyes went wide. “I think the murderer e-mailed me.”

She grabbed my hand and tugged. I could feel her fingers trembling as she hurried me down the hallway toward the dressing rooms at the back of the theater. Her voice was high and breathy as she continued to chatter. “E-mails can be faked, but this looks real to me. I just can’t believe it. He isn’t a killer. At least, I would never have believed it, but he confessed.”

Somewhere to my left, I could hear Devlyn’s voice. He must be finishing up with his students. I thought about asking him to come with us, but Felicia was on a mission. She
pulled me through a back hallway and into the scene shop at the very rear of the building. I sneezed as the smell of sawdust hit me.

“The costume shop is back here. My e-mail is open on the laptop. Please read it. If you think it’s real, we’ll call the police.”

Felicia let me enter the fluorescent-lit room first. Three mannequins greeted me near the door. A closed closet door and shelves filled with bolts of fabric took up the back wall. Two long tables sat in the center of the room. A tiny desk sat in the left rear corner, a darkened laptop open on it.

I took a seat at the desk and clicked the mouse, and a password protected text box appeared. Felicia leaned over from behind me to type. Her breath was shallow and fast as her fingers pressed the keys. She hit enter, and the open e-mail flashed on the screen.

The message wasn’t long. I started reading and went cold.

Felicia,